


my permanent accessory

by callmearcturus



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus/pseuds/callmearcturus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which too many drinks are had, Ray is not a chest high wall, and Gavin cannot dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my permanent accessory

Oddly enough, despite being what Michael would refer to as  _hardcore bros_ , Michael and Gavin didn’t actually spend a lot of off-time with each other. Part of it was the nature of the beast; they got to work at seven. Gavin tended to ride home with Geoff, obviously, and Michael lived on the other side of Austin. If everyone decided to go to lunch together or something, yeah, Gavin often squeezed himself in right between Geoff and Michael.

But from Friday at six to Monday at seven, Gavin fucking vanished off Michael’s radar, unless Griffon tweeted a picture or status update.

Point being, they were fast friends, perhaps even a  _bromance_ , but. They didn’t hang out. It was like the Ramseys had Gavin on a leash.

So Michael was pretty much completely unprepared the first time he and Gavin really crossed paths out of work.

Though,  _fucking Christ_ , it’s not like anything was going to prepare him for the fucking onslaught of Hurricane Gavin. Batten down the fucking hatches.

+

It was the last big party that Sorola was ever going to throw, Michael could just tell. The guy had the look. The look of a man who didn’t know what to do with all these people. The look of a man who should have been drunk by now, but had foolishly decided to stay mostly sober.

Michael had zero sympathy. This was also the guy who put a rum and coke in Gavin’s hand  _every time_  he saw him. Gavin’s look of abject terror and drunken confusion was glorious, though, especially when he found himself carrying around three different drinks. If he weren’t so out of it, he might think to combine the cups. But this  _was_  Gavin.

“Michael,” Gavin called, way too loud even over the music, when his gaze settled on Michael across the room. “ _Micheal!_ ”

Ray, who was blissfully sober and making like a wallflower, barked a laugh. “Oh man. Incoming.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michael despaired and made a game attempt to tuck in and hide behind Ray. Ray, because he was a useless shit, kept sidestepping out of the way.

Gavin, still making is way over, got a completely  _baffled_  look on his face, gnawing at his lower lip. Apparently Michael was good enough at hiding to fool him. Oh fuck, was that  _four_  SOLO cups in his hands?

“This isn’t a cover based shooter, you pussy,” Ray said, and unceremoniously fucked off, leaving Michael to fend for himself.

“Oh, suck a dick, Ray!” Michael called at his back furiously, then shut his eyes. “Shit.”

As he feared, Gavin not only caught sight of him but heard him. He had the ears of a drunken bat. Moved like one, too, practically falling into Michael’s shoulder and the wall with enough force that one of his collection of cups crumbled. Gus was going to have to wash that wall later.

“ _Mi_ cheal,” Gavin said with a sunny smile, curving his long body over Michael like an amorous telephone pole. “Hello there, little boy, how are you?”

“I was good until you showed up,” Michael said, liberating one of the cups from Gavin and finishing it off. He figured he was about to need it. “What do you want, Gavvers?”

Gavin snickered, either at himself or the nickname or nothing at all, and sway in closer, his nose practically in Michael’s hair. “Iiiiii was thinking we could light up some  _nice dynamite_.”

Michael picked another cup from Gavin’s hands and drained that one too. “Explosives indoors, not the best move?”

“What?” Gavin reeled back and stared at him. “I said  _nice dynamite._ You know? Teeeeam Nice Dynamite?”

“No, I don’t know, Gavin,” Michael said dryly.

Suddenly his vision was full of Gavin’s wide, dark eyes as he stared directly into Michael’s. Michael tried to lean away, surprised and somewhat worried there wasn’t enough room for himself and Gavin’s nose, but his back was to the wall.

Eventually Gavin snorted and leaned back again. “You’re having me on.” He gathered up Michael’s wrist in one of his hands, now free thanks to Michael stealing the spare drinks. “Come on, Michael, let’s— let’s light it up!”

In short order, Michael was hauled away from his nice, safe, slightly stained wall and into the main living room area. The music was louder and someone must’ve hijacked Gus’ sound system because bubblegum pop was not generally a part of the Sorola Music Catalog. At least, he hoped not.

On the floor already were Geoff and Griffon, who were getting down with their bad selves as much as their age and lack of rhythm would allow. “Got one!” Gavin told Griffon proudly.

Griffon looked at Michael before ducking her head, laughing. “You sure did, sweetie. Go on, let’s see this.”

Before  _that_  could unpack itself in Michael’s admittedly foggy head, Gavin started… flopping around in front of him. His arms moved, he bounced from foot to foot. It baffled him until Gavin stopped, seized Michael’s shoulders and started to move him too.

Oh fuck, Gavin was  _dancing._  Dancing in a way that resembled a disco zombie.

If only to save his own shame, Michael grabbed Gavin and tried to direct him. Michael was no lord of the dance, but he was a fucking fair sight better than  _Gavin_.

Their… cooperative shimmying went on for a while. After two songs, Michael thought he’d take his chances, maybe point over Gavin’s shoulder and shout  _hey look a distraction_  before booking it. That plan shot to hell when Geoff was dragged off the rug-cum-dance floor and shoved Gavin into Michael as he passed.

Geoff was an  _asshole_  and now Michael had Gavin wrapped around him, clinging to his shoulders and swaying them as the music wound down a little. He was hunched over to rest his head on Michael’s shoulder, and this close he could be heard humming along with…. not the music playing, that’s for sure. Maybe he was just humming. Mostly, Michael could just feel the vibration of it.

Michael swallowed and patted Gavin on the back, then for lack of better options just… rested his hands on the idiot’s back. It kept his arms from getting tired at least.

Over Gavin’s shoulder, Michael caught sight of Ray. Ray locked eyes with him before sending him the finger-into-hole sign and a thumbs up. Asshole.

Michael dragged Gavin around so he didn’t have to look at Ray. Gavin snickered to himself and latched on tighter, like some malignant octopus. Prying him off didn’t work, and Gavin was putting off heat like an inferno; Michael’s face felt hot.

With no prompt whatsoever, Gavin’s head snapped up so he could stare at Michael. “Uh,” Michael said.

“Michael,” Gavin said seriously. “Come’ere.”

“I can’t get much more here, Gavin.”

“No. No, no, come  _here_ ,” Gavin repeated before hauling Michael away bodily.

Cinched together mostly because figuring out how to untangle while Gavin dragged them away would’ve resulted in some skinned elbows and someone eating carpet in a not-fun way, they made their way out of the main room. On their way, they passed Kerry throwing empty cups at Miles, yelling something about _drowning him in Bane cups if he did that stupid voice one more time,_  whatever that meant.

Maybe Gavin knew where he was going, or he was winging it. Either way, Michael got shoved halfway into the coat closet, blocked in by Gavin.

“Gavin, what the fuck?”

Gavin smiled at him. “Hello there, little boy,” he said syrup slow. His gaze trailed down to where Michael had one hand braced against his chest. With an arch of his eyebrow, he leaned in, testing the resistance.

There’s wasn’t any, and Gavin soon breathed soda-and-rum sweetness against Michael’s mouth. “Hello,” he murmured again.

“You said that, dipshit.”

Gavin smirked. “Hel _lo._ _“_ He said it against Michael’s cheek, pressed to the corner of Michael’s lips. He was an annoying teasing asshole and Michael titled his head so he could look at Gavin when he told him so.

It… didn’t go as planned.

At all.

It was a learning experience, though. He learned what Gavin’s little surprised squeak felt like up close, what rum and coke tasted like in someone else’s mouth, the angle you had to tip your head back when the person you were making out with was taller than you, and how oddly soft Gavin’s beard was.

Gavin kept snickering, pulling back just to laugh quietly before kissing Michael again with plain intent and happiness. Michael… didn’t mind that much. It was stupid but more fun than anything else he’d done at the party so far.

The spare coats and hoodies in the closet kept them well secluded for a while. It felt like an hour before light peaked in, making the two of them look up.

Geoff was leaning on the door frame, looking even more tired than usual. His eyes flicked between the two of them, but he just shook his head, sighing. “Gavin, you coming home with us or getting a cab?”

Gavin thought about it. “Cab?”

“Cool.” Without any further input, he shut the door again, leaving them in darkness.

Michael blew out a slow breath. “Okay, that was…”

“Right, yeah, whatever,” Gavin said shortly. “Where were we?”

They’d been making out in a coat closet. Michael wanted to take a moment to point that out and ask some important questions like  _what the fuck_  and  _is kissing dudes a recent development_  and  _no really what the fuck_.

But if there was one thing Gavin was good at, it was a distraction.

**Author's Note:**

> "It was like the Ramseys had Gavin on a leash" is fucking funny given what I am currently writing, heh.


End file.
